


Threadfall

by elaine



Series: Sentinel and Harper [3]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M, Sentinel Senses, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J'mellison and Blair have achieved a tenuous compromise, until Thread begins to fall out of pattern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threadfall

“J’m! J’m!”

J’mellison heard his bond-mate’s call from three levels away, heard the pounding of his booted feet on the stone stairs, and smiled, relaxing properly into the warm water at last. It had been a particularly brutal Threadfall this time; they’d been fortunate not to lose anyone, and several riders and dragons had been scored. He’d been one of the luckier ones, but his muscles ached and his skin crawled from the fumes of the firestone the dragons used to enhance their flame.

 _Blair’s home_ , came the contented message from Sweetheart, who now viewed Blair as being as much ‘his’ as he did his rider.

“I know. I’ve got ears.” J’mellison grumbled, no less contented but less willing to openly display his emotions. “Half the Weyr knows he’s home.”

 _He should Impress from this next hatching_ , Sweetheart grumbled.  _A dragon would keep him safer than that stupid mule._

Since he’d had thoughts along those lines himself – thoughts that he’d known better than to present to Blair – J’mellison wisely refrained from answering. Besides, Blair was getting close now, still nattering about his journey, knowing that J’mellison would hear every word long before he reached their chamber. He ignored the actual words and simply revelled in the richness of his lover’s voice.

It had been too long since he’d last heard it, but then two weeks apart was thirteen days too many in J’mellison’s estimation. His senses quickly dulled when they were separated and his control became ever more tenuous. Ten days, he’d discovered, were about as many as he could comfortably manage, but he wasn’t about to tell Blair that. Not when he saw the excitement in Blair’s eyes as he set off on another assignment, or heard his tales upon his return.

No, he simply counted himself a very lucky man that Craft Master Rossan had found this solution to their problem – a roving ambassadorship that might take Blair away from him at a moment’s notice, but which brought him back again to share chamber and bed for long intervals between trips.

“…and Lord Holder Perin…” Blair appeared in the archway, following the trail of J’mellison’s discarded clothing and wearing nothing more than a pair of leather pants himself. His hands were fumbling with the buttons, made clumsy by his need to use them for undressing when he’d rather be using them for talking. He stopped dead, staring at J’mellison’s reddened face and chest. “Shards, are you all right?”

“It’s the firestone.” J’mellison allowed his eyes to roam over Blair’s bare chest with overt appreciation. “Are you just going to stand there? Not that I mind…” he added, leering, and lying through his teeth. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to hold his lover’s wet and squirming – he would certainly soon be squirming if J’mellison had anything to do with it – body in his arms.

“Now that you mention it…” Blair grinned widely and shoved his pants down, almost tripping when he failed to properly disentangle his feet. He managed to free himself and plunged into the warm water with an appreciative moan. “Oh, that feels good…”

He’d landed squarely on J’mellison’s lap, and not by any kind of coincidence. He leaned forward, his lips pouting expectantly. “Are you glad to see me?” He wriggled forward a little, started theatrically, and glanced down between their bodies. “Well, well… I guess you are.”

“I guess I am.” He wrapped his arms around Blair’s waist and pulled him closer, stopping his mouth with a lavish kiss. His lover tasted like the best bubble pies, sweet and tart. He smelled like old sweat and mule. Without breaking the kiss, J’mellison reached for the dish of sweetsand and began scrubbing Blair’s back.

Blair wasn’t any kind of help, being more interested in putting his tongue as far as possible down J’mellison’s throat than in getting clean. Somehow they managed, with much awkward manoeuvring, to scrub Blair’s chest and armpits, but when J’mellison’s hands worked lower, Blair broke away.

“Never mind that,” his voice a throaty purr, Blair grabbed a dish of oil, originally used only to soothe the dry patches on Sweetheart’s hide, and now regularly put to more personal uses. “Open me up. I want you inside me.”

It still sent a thrill through J’mellison whenever Blair showed his willingness to make love this way. At first they’d done no more than pleasure each other with hand or mouth, and Blair had been fine with that. But when J’mellison had started making other advances, Blair had become unaccountably skittish. It had taken several attempts for him to coax the reason out of Blair – that Blair had not only been a virgin to men on the night of their first joining, but that it hadn’t been the most pleasant of experiences for him, leaving him sore for days afterwards.

That news had sent J’mellison into a days-long orgy of guilt and self-recrimination, but eventually he’d pulled himself out of it and realised that if he wanted more from Blair, then he was going to have to lead the way. It was only fair, he reasoned, since he was more experienced than Blair in these matters; if only slightly more experienced.

So he’d shown Blair how to prepare him, how to enter him without causing hurt, and his openly displayed pleasure in their joining had roused Blair’s natural curiosity to the point that one day he nervously asked J’mellison to make love to him. That night, something incredible had happened, something J’mellison would remember for the rest of his life. And no matter how much Blair might roll his eyes and mutter about macho subcultures and gender stereotyped role models, J’mellison knew he’d felt it too – the moment when he’d entered his lover’s body and made the bond between them complete.

Shells, the whole weyr had known it, judging by the roars from the dragons that had continued intermittently through the night, and by the bleary-eyed and exhausted appearance of most of the dragon riders next morning…

They’d done this often enough, now, that Blair was soon squirming with impatience and rocking onto J’mellison’s fingers. “Enough. Enough, J’m… for the love of eggs, don’t keep me waiting.”

“If you can still talk, you’re not ready yet.” J’mellison grinned as Blair lunged forward, pulling himself free of his fingers. He grabbed his lover by the hips to steady him. “You want me?”

“Shards, haven’t I been saying so?” Blair’s grabbing fingers wrapped around J’mellison’s cock and held it steady for him to sink down onto – which he did with ease. His eyelids fluttered and his head dropped back, exposing the luscious curve of his throat. “Oh… oh, yes…”

“Are you always like a green in heat?” J’mellison grumbled complacently. “I swear you’re going to wear me out someday…” he broke off with a gasp as Blair came to rest, smooth ass against his balls, and wriggled mischievously. “Fardles, do that again.”

“What, this?” Blair did it again, arching his back and squirming, then leaned forward, wrapping his arms around J’mellison’s neck and pressing his face into the curve of his shoulder. “Fuck me, J’m.”

Feeling more than a little green-like, himself, J’mellison began to thrust up into Blair’s body, cautiously at first and then, in answer to Blair’s groans of pleasure, with increasing urgency. Shards, his back was going to suffer for this, but J’mellison didn’t care. He reached between their bodies and began jerking Blair in time with his thrusts. Soon Blair began to tremble, his groans turning to plaintive cries. From the ledge, Sweetheart hummed his pleasure, sending jolts of dragon-lust through J’mellison’s body. Between the two of them, he was done for… he tightened his fist on Blair’s cock and felt the sharp pulse of it, and the heat of his emission swirling in the water between them. Only then did he allow himself his own release as Blair slumped in his arms.

***

Four days. Just four days, and suddenly Blair was called away again. He watched, silently accusing, as Blair prepared for his journey.

“Look, J’m, I know you’re not happy about this…”

Not happy? Not happy didn’t  _begin_  to cover how J’mellison felt about it. “It just seems like these assignments of yours are coming ever closer together.”

Blair glanced down at the spare shirt in his hands, his face showing annoyance mingled with guilt. “Things are difficult at the moment. There’s a lot for the Harper Hall to do and not enough people. Particularly in this area. You’ve gotta understand…”

“I  _do_  understand,” and he did. He really did, “but I don’t have to like it. And I’m not going to pretend I do.”

Blair’s eyes met his and Blair nodded, once, shortly. “All right.”

 _If he’d let_ me _take him, he’d get there so much faster._

J’mellison sighed sharply. It wasn’t a new suggestion. Sweetheart made it every time Blair left, but he knew better than to pass on the offer. He saw Blair looking at him curiously, but he simply jerked his head in the direction of Sweetheart’s ledge and rolled his eyes. “How long this time?”

“Shards, how should  _I_  know?” Blair flung the shirt down on top of the pack and strode for the doorway. Halfway there, he stopped. “Sorry. I don’t  _want_  to go… well, I do, but I don’t want to leave you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” J’mellison went over to his lover, placing his hands carefully on despondently slumped shoulders and turning him into a close embrace. Blair’s arms came up, wrapped around his torso, his hands flattening on the centre of J’mellison’s back. “Maybe… just this time… you could let us fly you there.” Blair tensed, but he continued anyway, trying to keep the pleading tone from his voice. “It would cut the travel time, there and back, by days.”

Blair pulled away, not gently. “J’m, you  _know_  how I feel about that.”

“It’s not just the getting there, it’s the journey.” That’s what Blair had told him the first time. They’d fought over it then, though not since. Once had been unpleasant enough. “But, just this once? What harm would it do?”

He saw, with a sinking feeling in his gut, the stubborn tilt of Blair’s chin. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We do.” J’mellison clenched his jaw on the hasty words he didn’t dare permit himself to speak. They were both too damn stubborn, that was the problem. It didn’t make for an easy life; he didn’t have to make it any harder. He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sweetheart’s got a couple of dry patches. I’ll go oil him.”

_I could eat his mule. It probably wouldn’t taste good, though._

J’mellison snorted his amusement. “He’d only find himself another.”

_Have you stopped fighting now? I don’t like it when you fight._

“I don’t like it either.” He stepped through the archway to Sweetheart’s ledge, raising a hand to stroke the bronze’s muzzle. “Now, where’s that dry patch?”

***

The drums started while J’mellison was watching Sweetheart bathe after a particularly gruesome feeding. He couldn’t interpret the message, but the urgency was unmistakeable. Then a dragon popped in from  _between_  – a blue, and not yet full grown.

 _Hth,_  Sweetheart supplied,  _and R’kylar of Igen. J’m, thread’s falling out of pattern._

Shards! It happened every so often and then everyone had to scramble until the new pattern was established. J’mellison started to run – he’d need to change into his flying leathers and get to the briefing room as quickly as possible. Yelling to the nearest drudge to get Sweetheart’s harness ready, he took the steps up two and three at a time.

The news was even worse than he’d expected. J’mellison stared grimly at the map, his hands slowly clenching into fists. “Blair’s right in the middle of the path, and over a day’s journey in any direction from Hall, Hold or Weyr.”

Weyrleader T’gessian didn’t need to ask how he knew. All the dragons and their riders were quietly under orders to look out for Blair and report his position back to Sweetheart and by extension, to him. T’gessian, I…”

T’gessian interrupted him with a quick gesture. “Go. We’ve more than enough riders to loan to Ista.”

Nodding his thanks, J’mellison ran for his chamber and the ledge where Sweetheart was waiting for him. The dragon’s eyes were swirling yellow with distress.

We have to find Blair

“We will.” Hardly slowing, J’mellison threw himself aboard the bronze, grabbing at the harness as Sweetheart leapt into the air. They’d barely cleared the top of the Weyr before Sweetheart launched himself  _between_.

All they had to go on was the image of Blair’s last sighting, four hours past. They flew along the path Blair would have been following and found no sign of him. Cursing, J’mellison instructed Sweetheart to fly a grid, aware all the time of the grey smudge on the horizon rapidly growing larger. Luckily this area was on the far edge of the fall, but he didn’t have a lot of time left.

They found him eventually, sheltering with his mule beneath an outcropping of rock that was entirely too small in J’mellison’s opinion. He didn’t waste any time, holding out his hand to Blair and snapping his fingers. “Come on. I’ll bring you back later.”

“Thanks, J’m, but I’m fine here, and I don’t want to leave Rosie.”

“Have you cracked your egg? Thread’s coming and you want to stay?” He leaned down, arm still outstretched. “Leave your fardling mule, she’ll be fine. There’s not enough room under there for both of you.”

“I’ve sheltered under smaller during Threadfall.” Blair’s lips tightened ominously. “J’m you should be flying Thread, not wasting time here.”

“Scorch it!” He could feel Sweetheart’s distress through their link and it was setting him on edge. “What kind of dimglow are you? Who  _wants_  to be left out for Thread?”

J’m why won’t Blair leave? Make him come with us.

“Because he’s a stubborn, wherry-brained, deadglow. That’s why.” J’mellison answered aloud, angry enough to throw fuel on the fire. “I’m not leaving without you, Blair.”

“And I’m staying.” Blair’s chin lifted and he folded his arms across his chest.

J’mellison knew that look; he’d already seen it a few times and it presaged nothing good. He met Blair’s stare with one equally determined and settled into the harness with the air of one who had all day to wait.

Blair’s chin tilted a little higher.

 _Tell him to come, J’m,_  Sweetheart’s eyes were a roiling reddish yellow, but the colour was rapidly paling to the white of imminent danger.  _Why won’t he come? Doesn’t he like us any more?_

“No, I don’t think he does like us.” J’mellison snapped, his eyes never leaving Blair’s. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be behaving this way.”

Hurt, anger and pride flickered in Blair’s eyes but he said nothing. The fall was close now, dangerously close. J’mellison could feel the minute shifting of muscle as Sweetheart fought his instinctive reaction – to rise and fight Thread in the air.

“J’m, don’t do this.” A hint of pleading entered Blair’s voice, but J’mellison hardened his heart. It wasn’t just a matter of pride, he  _couldn’t_  leave Blair here, in danger. Every instinct screamed denial at the thought.

“Don’t do  _what_? My duty? It’s my  _job_  to protect you. You’re my  _Guide_.” His voice cracked on the last word. “A choice between losing you and death is no choice at all.”

Blair’s jaw slackened in shock. Then he was flinging himself forward, scrambling up Sweetheart’s harness as the bronze pushed off with a desperate heave, before he’d even reached the dragon’s neck. J’mellison leaned down to grab Blair’s wrist – he’d flown with them often enough, but not in such danger or haste and his grip looked none too secure.

The leading edge was so close now that the individual Thread were easily visible, even without Sentinel abilities. They’d left it dangerously late, and Blair’s slight additional weight, under these conditions, was a hindrance. They’d barely be able to lift high enough to go  _between_  before the Thread was on them.

Nearly there… and then a gust of wind, stirred up by the sheer mass of Threadfall, caught a tangle of the silvery stuff and flung it directly at them. Searing pain in his left hip almost deprived J’mellison of consciousness and the scream of a dragon in pain sent cold spikes through his chest. He barely had enough sense left to picture the courtyard at Benden Weyr before Sweetheart took them  _between._

They came in, by design, dangerously low; it was all that saved them as Sweetheart plummeted to the ground. Somehow, J’mellison was flat on his back, his hip and leg on fire, and the slick sensation of blood-soaked leathers sending warning signals. It was bad this time, he thought hazily. He felt shaking hands lift his head and a beloved voice calling his name. And then nothing.

***

The pain was all encompassing, stealing away reason and, almost, the ability to breathe. J’mellison struggled to move, to drag molten air into his lungs. The pain seared, like Threadscore when it burned down to the bone. Far worse, though, was the empty place where Sweetheart’s presence ought to be. It was only the tenuous link he still held to Blair that kept him alive, fighting to claw his way out of this horror.

“ _Hold_  him, scorch it!”

The voice burst, shatteringly loud, through the roaring of the pain. Suddenly the lethargy was gone, but the pain was magnified a thousand times. J’mellison screamed, his throat already afire, and struggled against the hands that imprisoned him.

“ _J’m_! J’mellison,  _listen_  to me.” Blair’s voice, hoarse and desperate. Too loud. “Remember your levels.”

Levels? Confusion distracted J’mellison from the pain long enough for him to take in the sour scent of his distressed Guide. And that helped – any tiny scrap of Blair’s essence was an anchor to cling to in this nightmare. He subsided, shuddering, in no less pain, but focused now on Blair.

They’d talked about levels – about controlling his senses, which had become more acute since their bonding, but correspondingly more difficult to manage at times.

“Remember, J’m? The glows. Remember the glows.”

Glows… shards, yes! He remembered… Blair lying in his arms one night after lovemaking, talking lazily about the glows and how he could use the image of them to control the intensity of his senses. Bright, new-made glows to increase the sharpness, dim glows to reduce it.

“Just think of the pain, and think of the dimmest glow you’ve ever seen, just a heartbeat away from flickering out.” Blair’s voice was shaking. “J’m, I  _know_  you can do it.”

He tried. It seemed like an impossible task; never had he felt such overwhelming pain before. Finally he managed to dim the brilliance of the glow a little; just enough to free him from the worst of the torment.

“Sweetheart…”

“He’s okay, J’m. Doped up on fellis juice and numbweed.” The sharp scent of tears came from Blair’s direction.

J’mellison felt the agony ease a little further. He tried to open his eyes but the light was blinding. A weak moan slipped past his lips. “How bad?”

“Not as bad as you might think.” Gentle fingertips brushed over his temple and J’mellison turned his head into the touch, blindly seeking comfort. “It’s serious, but you’ll both recover fully. But the pain…” his voice cracked, “all your senses are way out of whack, J’m. It started after we gave you the fellis juice. Lorinen said some Sentinels are sensitive to drugs, but she’s never seen a reaction like yours. We had to stop the drugs, but then you were in so much pain… is it better now?”

“Better…” J’mellison sighed, tried to settle himself more comfortably, but every movement sent bright shards of fire through his body. “Stay with me?”

“Through Fall, Fog and Fire.” Blair’s weight settled beside him and immediately J’mellison felt the pain dissipate still further. “I’m sorry, J’m. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Not…” he didn’t have the strength to argue. The soft brush of Blair’s lips against his cheek was the last thing he felt.

***

He woke again, feeling weak but with the pain of his wounds much reduced. In the back of his mind he was aware of Sweetheart’s drowsy presence and his heart eased a little. If Sweetheart was alive then everything would be okay. It still took an effort to open his eyes and turn his head in search of Blair.

His lover was asleep, sprawled in an armchair beside the bed, his head at an angle that J’mellison knew would render him sore and cranky when he woke. He looked absolutely exhausted, with lines drawn in his face that didn’t belong there and dark shadows surrounding his eyes. He smelled none too fresh and his shirt was crumpled and sweaty. The sleeves, rolled up to his elbows, revealed a blotchy bruise on his left arm, several days old, and J’mellison knew that if he laid his hand over it the shape of his fingers would match exactly the marks on that smooth skin.

A small, pained sound escaped him at the thought, and Blair’s lashes fluttered, lifting reluctantly to reveal bloodshot blue eyes. Then Blair smiled. “J’m!” He struggled out of the chair and perched on the edge of their bed. “Shards, it’s good to see you awake again. How’s the pain?”

“Better.” His voice was rasping, and his throat felt raw. He grimaced, swallowing painfully.

“Here.” Blair lifted his head and held a mug to his lips.

Water had never tasted so sweet before. When Blair lowered his head to the pillows again, J’mellison managed a weak smile. “What happened?”

He’d only meant to question why he’d reacted so badly to the Threadscore – it wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt since his Sentinel senses manifested – but guilt flashed across Blair’s face, gone almost before J’mellison could register it.

“J’m, I’m so sorry. I should never have… if anything had happened to you or Sweetheart… if either of you had died because of me…”

“No. Blair…” He lifted his arm weakly and Blair tumbled forward, pressing his face into J’mellison’s bare shoulder. Silent sobs racked Blair’s body and his distress tore at J’mellison’s soul. “I’m as much to blame as you are. Blair, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I…”

The words were so muffled, that J’mellison didn’t try to understand them. He tightened his arm across Blair’s back. “Blair, I swear, I’m just as much a stubborn-headed hard egg as you. You didn’t make me stay, I chose to.”

Blair sniffed messily and raised his head. His face – and J’mellison’s shoulder – was smeared with tear tracks and, regrettably, snot. He blinked dazedly. “But you said…”

“And it’s true.” He brushed a new tear away from the corner of Blair’s eye. “But I’m not a herd beast, incapable of reason. You were safe enough where you were, I just couldn’t… Blair, it eats me up every time you’re away from me and I know I can’t tie you to my side, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to try.”

He braced himself for a renewal of the resentment Blair wasn’t able to hide every time he became overprotective, but this time it didn’t happen. Blair simply nodded seriously and drew his sleeve over his face, wiping at his eyes. “Lorinen and Craft Master Rossan told me it was instinctive for a Sentinel to protect his Guide, that you can’t help… J’m, I’ll  _try_  not to be such a hard egg about it.”

“And I’ll try not to treat you like a soft shell.” J’mellison managed a smile with an effort that was probably visible. Even talking required more strength than he had.

Sure enough, Blair frowned. “You need to rest. I’ll just…”

“Stay.” He tried not to look too pitiful. “I’ll rest easier if you stay.”

“You…” Blair shook his head, sighing in exasperation. “By Faranth’s first egg, you’re just… I’ll just clean us both up, okay?”

J’mellison closed his eyes with a smile, too exhausted to feel impatience as Blair wiped his chest with a damp cloth before sinking down at his side. Then, at last, he could let himself slide into sleep.

***

“It’s healing well,” Blair remarked as he patted a cloth gently over the freshly washed wound. “Can you see or smell any sign of infection?”

“Nothing.” J’mellison lowered his head back to the pillow, feeling queasy. It  _was_  healing well, but his first sight of that messy, jagged wound running from hip down to his thigh and passing entirely too close to Blair’s favourite plaything was undeniably disturbing. He swallowed noisily, ignoring the amusement suddenly emanating from his Guide. “It’s not much worse than any I’ve had before. Why was it so painful?”

Blair covered the wound with a clean cloth smeared with numbweed and replaced the covers gently before he answered. “J’m, you know since we bonded your senses have been more enhanced…” he waited for J’mellison’s nod before continuing. “Well, it looks like it’s affected your reactions to medication too. When we dosed you with the fellis juice, you just… you were out for  _hours_. And when you started to come round, you were  _screaming_ , it seemed like all your senses where in overload and you were too out of it to be able to control them. We had to hold you down, and we didn’t dare even use the numbweed – the skin all round the wound was reacting. Lorinen had never seen anything like it, and Rossan had every spare apprentice searching the archives for information about Sentinels.”

Blair’s voice roughened with emotion, and J’mellison could only imagine how terrifying it must have been. “Did they find anything?”

“No.” Blair’s eyes were bleak. “It looks like you’re the only Sentinel in the history of Pern to also be a rider. We think that has something to do with it. Although we  _did_  find out that strong emotions can trigger a physical response.”

That damned fight… “Is that why you can use numbweed now?”

“Maybe.” Blair shrugged unhappily. “There’s too much we don’t know, but as long as we just use a tiny amount it doesn’t cause any problems. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to risk fellis juice.”

“That could be…” Shards! How was he to fly against Thread with this mess hanging over him? “…a problem.”

“We’ll work on it, J’m. Since you’ve recovered from the effect of the fellis juice, you’ve been able to control the pain, haven’t you?” He’d been tidying away the bandages and towels, now Blair dragged his shirt off over his head.

J’mellison mumbled assent, distracted as always by the sight of cinnamon coloured nipples peeking out from the dark whorls of chest hair. He noted, without feeling the slightest remorse, Blair’s fond exasperation, and thought it prudent to offer a small inducement. “We could do more of those tests.”

“We  _will_  do more of those tests.” Blair shimmied out of his pants and slid into the bed, snuggling up to him in a way that, had J’mellison been fully recovered, would have led to other things. Tonight, it merely signalled Blair’s desire for sleep. “T’gessian has agreed you’re not to fly Thread until we have this under control.”

He ought, J’mellison thought drowsily, to feel more outrage than this, but in truth, he knew Blair was right. He’d have risked himself without a second’s hesitation, but if he died, Sweetheart would go  _between_  in a heartbeat, and Blair… from all he knew, a Guide could survive his Sentinel’s death – in the same way a rider survives his dragon’s death. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

 _I’d stay_ , Sweetheart rumbled softly in his thoughts, distress colouring his disembodied voice.  _I’d stay for Blair. But I don’t want you to die._

“I’m not going to die.” He felt Blair flinch and start to raise his head. “Sweetheart,” he said, and that was explanation enough. Blair relaxed against him and J’mellison closed his eyes, feeling tears prickling beneath the lids. Shards, what had he ever done to deserve such friends as this? He turned his face into Blair’s soft curls and kissed his lover tenderly. “I love you, you know,” he said, to both of them.


End file.
